


See No Reason to Go Without

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Alien genitalia, Alternating POV Between Chapters, First Time, Getting Together, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, M/M, Penile Spines, Porn with Feelings, Xeno, Xeno From The Alien's Perspective, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Neither of them had expected or prepared to fall for someone outside their species. Now that they have, they're going to make full use of the opportunity to explore and enjoy the differences between human and lasat bodies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt in FFA's prompt & fill fest for Post 1000](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/344797.html?thread=2003475677#cmt2003475677) asking for something featuring mutual xeno.

He has spent a lot of time thinking about this. He has composed dozens of declarations in his head and, until opening his mouth just now, intended to verbalize none of them.

The thing is, he's fairly certain that he's going to die in a matter of hours. He'd like to think he's optimistic, but he's had a lot of luck recently and at some point it has got to give out. All he has a right to hope for is that it'll give out in a way that lets him die for something worthwhile, which the coming mission is. Given the option, he's going to do everything and anything he can to survive, but, given the option, he'll give his life if necessary to support the rebels. So, though there's really not time to dwell on them, there have been more than a few dramatic death fantasies.

While he can only wish he were surprised by how many variations of these fantasies involve being cradled in the warmth of impressively muscled arms while slowly expiring from an unlucky blaster-fire hit, the whole thing has actually offered some revelations. The first is that if he could do just one thing before dying, he can't pretend he doesn't know what that one thing would be. The second is that a very large part of him is so irritated by the very idea of revealing his affection while dying that he can get annoyed at himself in his own fantasies.

The middle of a battle is neither the place nor the time. What good does a confession do at that point? How much are the words worth if he's only willing to say them knowing that he'll have to face as few of the consequences as humanly possible?

Telling Garazeb Orrelios, straightforwardly, how he feels and how he wants their relationship to shift (that is, in a way that involves significantly more mutually assisted orgasms than he's pretty sure normal friendships – even amongst those in the resistance – do) is something that he wants to do, and it's something that he wants to do properly. It's also something that he can't let himself intend to do; there's no way it would work out well.

He had been occupied cataloging medical supplies – because even if everything goes as well as possible they will be needed, and having them checked and in order might be what decides someone's fate – when Zeb had stomped his way into the makeshift infirmary and asked if there was anything he could do to help.

Alexsandr had looked up at him as the lasat had come closer. He has become used to Zeb coming close. He's often close enough to touch without reaching out, and Alex enjoys that closeness more than he ever would have expected. 

The Empire was wrong about a lot of things, but that the Rebellion is a haven for perverts and degenerates is apparently accurate as demonstrated by his own presence here. He has always been what the Empire would categorize as wrong, he'd simply been better at hiding it than most others, even from himself. If he were to analyze himself as the ISB sometimes analyzes others, perhaps it wouldn't be a surprise for his fear of lasat to have turned into hatred, and from there for it to have been a lasat that sparked his curiosity, for it to have been a lasat that his mind dwelled on as he asked the questions that undermined everything he'd thought he knew, for it to have been a lasat that spurred him to care about more than the glory of the Empire. Alex's fascination and focus on lasat has been an easily traceable thread in his life; it's not so remarkable for him to have followed a path from fear to lust. Not unforeseeable, perhaps, but by the reckoning of the Empire, of everything he's grown up and lived surrounded by, appalling. He's in a new environment now though; one into which, maybe, he fits better. He doesn't even know how it would work, with the differences in biology. He wants to find out.

He opens his mouth, as Zeb is expecting a reply, and he lets what he wants to do overrule what he's calculated is wisest to do.

What's worse, he does it wrong.

There are dozens of speeches, eloquent statements and completely rational sounding declarations, floating around in the back of his mind. First they merge into a blathering, disjointed mass. Then they condense so that statements like _I don't expect you to feel the same_ and _I've come to care about you in ways that are inappropriate if we're friends_ and _I know this isn't what you expected from me, but it's not as strange as it sounds. I never would have ended up here if you hadn't opened my eyes, and I'm grateful for that_ and _I wanted you to know_ become a declaration that "I don't care what you want."

He reaches out, body moving under the same power his mouth did, grabs Zeb by the back of the head, and pulls him into a kiss.

It is not everything he'd dreamed of.

There are several aspects that would put it in the running for a "worst kiss of a lifetime" award. There's the embarrassment of actually having done it mixed with the fear that this will change everything for the worse. There's the stunned horror that accompanies letting the words he's just said sink in, because that's an astounding mess and he takes some pride at being very good at saying what needs to be said clearly and properly. And then there are the worst parts: that Zeb is holding himself very, very still and isn't moving at all to kiss him back.

He pulls back, drops his hands to his sides, and stares into the wide green eyes that are undoubtedly about to end him.

"You don't care what I want?" Zeb asks, tone not sounding particularly furious yet.

"No!" Alex assures him, defaulting to a commanding tone before the panic really sets in. "I mean, no, that's not what I mean. I misspoke."

"Is that how things are done between Imperials? Because..." 

Alex catches the hint of a grin before Zeb trails off.

He gathers himself. He had spied on Grand Admiral Thrawn, who they say can see spoken lies. He has no reason to fall apart here. The worst he can do is humiliate himself; Zeb isn't about to have him executed. 

"No, it's not. I meant," surely the attempt at a kiss has conveyed what he meant well enough that he doesn't have to try to say it again, so he won't put himself through that, "I think what just happened made it clear what both of us want."

"It didn't." Zeb extends his legs, not to his full height but enough for tower over Alex for a moment. Alex keeps his eyes on his face throughout the process, ignoring how he knows the movement displays taut muscles. 

Alex can't stand any straighter, so he lifts his chin and does his best to stare down his nose as he says "I wanted to kiss you. Given our chances of surviving much longer, this appeared to be the best time to do so. If you don't want me to, don't worry about it happening again. Now we both know." 

There were also a lot of follow-ups he'd thought about in case of rejection, some of them fairly vile, some of them building of off well-reasoned confessions. 

He opens his mouth again, intending to add, _That will be all._

"Right, well, it's not that I don't want that." The lasat raises an arm to rub at the back of his head.

Alex shuts his own mouth before saying something stupid, possibly for the first time in this conversation.

"You caught me off guard. I've," he exhales in a grunt, "thought about it. Wasn't sure how to say it myself. Or if I should. Human mating rituals are bizarre."

Alex almost laughs. His huff gets a grin out of Zeb, who was probably going for it with 'human mating rituals'. The glimpse of fang makes his heart skip; it's neither lust nor fear, and it makes him grin back.

Zeb brings his arm down then reaches out. "If you wanna give it another go -"

Alex does. 

Kissing someone without a protruding nose to get in the way is actually very convenient. The lips he'll need to learn – they're wider than a human's, recognizable but different in shape – but there will be time for that, and more if all goes well.

He pulls Zeb closer, body to body, digging his fingers into the short fur on his upper arm. Things could go further, but the sound of a dropped crate, muffled by walls as it is, serves as a reminder that privacy isn't exactly at hand. There are important preparations to be made.

He pulls back again and looks to the door. There's no one out there, not nearby enough to have seen or heard them, but either of them could be needed at a moment's notice.

Zeb brings his hand up to the back of Alex's head, running it over his hair. It's large and strong, and it really hasn't been long at all since Alex would have expected mortal peril at that hand anywhere near his neck. He can barely comprehend that he feels safe being held like this now.

Zeb brings his own head forward and rubs the left side of his head smoothly against Alex's right, then does the same with their other sides. He can guess at what the gesture means, and he can see himself getting used to it.

Zeb pulls back with a short exhalation. He lowers his hand, trailing it down Alex's back before pulling away.

That's when Alex hears Hera's voice, calling for Zeb. She's far enough away to avoid, but if Alex can hear her Zeb can't pretend not to.

"Afterward -" Zeb starts.

"Of course," Alex cuts him off with a nod. Of course, because after the mission they'll have time to see where this takes them, and because saying anything more seems like tempting fate; of course they'll both be there and of course this will still seem important. 

Hera calls for Zeb again, making the lasat look guiltily to the door.

"Go on, they need you." Alex shifts into parade rest. It's clearly a dismissal, he's familiar with those.

"Yeah, that they do." 

Zeb stares at him for a moment then turns, and with only two steps he's through the door.

Alex waits until he hears the lasat's steps fade before returning to busy himself with the medical supplies.

This is good, of course. That went unbelievably well considering how it started, and that given his expectations it never should have started at all. But for all that he's just had one obsessive worry averted, he's no less confused than he was before. His questions may not be more numerous, but they're certainly more pressing. Uncertainty is a state of being he's coming to accept though; he's far better for what it brings to his life than he ever was when guided by surety. 

For all that he's been dwelling on his own mortality, he's also looking forward to the coming conflict. Things are still simpler and sharper in battle; his side, and the enemy's, and the thrill of the fight. He has more to anticipate in victory now than he did moments ago. So he lets himself anticipate, though not enough for it to become a distraction, and he makes sure that everything is in order.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes a while to get Alex alone – with a reasonable expectation of privacy – after the battle. Most of that's the privacy part, they have enough opportunities to be publicly happy and sad and entirely unfairly reprimanded for leaping into shield generator coils. (No matter what Hera says, she wasn't there when it happened; if she were she would have understood.)

Alex acts no differently now, at least not in front of others, which is good, at least for now. Zeb only knows that there's a lot he doesn't know about human relationships and that there's a lot of room for complication, but there's no reason to make that an issue until it has to be.

Privacy may be hard to find, but it's not unattainable. There are still things that need to be done, and there are reasons for others to do them, leaving him and Alex alone.

So they've wound up alone, together, in his room, and somehow both deeply fascinated by looking at everything but each other.

"It's a remarkable likeness," Alex says, staring at one of the illustrations of embarrassing events Sabine has painted on the wall. It's blatant goading, even before he adds, "She really does capture the tr-"

He doesn't get to finish. Zeb swears, and closes in, and presses their lips together.

It successfully shifts the mood. Before he's had time to think about what to do next, Alex is grabbing at him, pulling him closer and wrapping him in his arms. He moves to hold him in return, pushing a hand under the hem of Alex's jacket and up against his back.

Alex moans before drawing back. Zeb is almost perfectly sure it's a sound of pleasure but lets him go easily. 

"Right. Good. Take off your clothes," Alex demands.

"Am I taking orders?" He asks, twisting his face. There's a small part of him wondering whether they should sort this out a bit more first. He doesn't know what Alex expects, or what he wants beyond this and, apparently, kissing. It might be in both of their best interests to clarify. But that part of him is being effectively drowned out by the far more compelling part telling him that this has been far too long in coming and they need to get on with enjoying it.

"Just do it. Unless you're aroused by wasting time fiddling with other people's clothing." His tone says that even as he's presenting the possibility, he isn't so much as considering it as an option.

"If I am," he asks, considering for a moment that he might very much enjoy unwrapping Alex's various layers even as he does as demanded, "do you care?"

He has his own clothes pushed halfway down his legs before he realizes Alex has gone still. 

"Yes, I care," he says, sounding almost irritated, though his look is introspective enough that Zeb doesn't concern himself with whether he's the source of that irritation.

Zeb steps out of the last of what he'd been wearing, watching as Alex crouches, bare chested, to deal with his shoes. And fair enough, those things are weird enough he might get distracted if he were undressing Alex himself. He probably won't ever get completely used to human feet. They can't move the right way, and their shape is always unexpected no matter how many times he's seen one.

"I have to say, I wasn't totally against the idea. Didn't expect it, but we can play with it sometime."

Alex turns his face away as he stands, but Zeb can see the constrained chuckle work its way through his body, passing from his abdomen to his chest to his shoulders.

"Sometime," Alex replies with slightly upturned lips. He's pale, skin and muscle so revealed with only the barest, patchiest covering of hair; nothing that could rightly be called fur. It's not a body he ever would have expected to be attracted to, but he is. He very clearly is. He's paid attention to not paying attention; he's made sure he doesn't stare as Alex moves, or look over at him often enough to draw notice. It hadn't seemed strange until the reason had struck him in a sudden, stunning, revelation; at first he'd tracked the man as a threat, and then he'd kept tracking him, and the alertness that accompanied his presence had shifted into a reaction that gives almost the same rush as "threat" but affects his body in an entirely different way.

He's aware enough to know that "delicate" is not a descriptor Alex would want applied, but it's not inaccurate to human skin, which shows all hits, goes raised and red with the lightest scratch and turns an array of colour when bruised. He wants to touch; he thinks he may want to leave marks. He supposes it might be inevitable; however this goes, it'll be something they need to figure out in the heat of it. He expects at least one sprain at some point. There will inevitably be some sort of surprising difference in the way they do things. Surprising to him at least. He hasn't thought to ask, and he hasn't actually said.

"I haven't exactly done this with a human before," he clarifies. He immediately congratulates himself for cleverly avoiding all responsibility for anticipating any surprises that lie in wait for them.

"Exactly?" Alex questions, as though Zeb might be offering some level of expertise on how human and lasat come together to do this, and since those are expectations he doesn't want to raise his correction of "At all," is immediate. 

"Right. You might have noticed that the Empire isn't very supportive of fraternization with aliens." Alex moves as though to cross his arms, then drops them to his sides. "If I'd tried anything like this before..." he hesitates, then starts again, "There are rumours about officers disappearing entirely. Even being found with a rodian can kill a career if you don't have the right friends." His mouth twists into an unpleasant smile as he looks at Zeb, "Just rumours though. Why not let everyone believe a failed officer was a pervert, no matter what they disappeared for?"

"Wonder what they're saying about you," Zeb voices, before he can think better of it.

"Wonder what they're saying about me," Alex echoes before moving forward and burying a hand in the fur of his chest. "We'll figure it out. Or I will, and you can try to follow along."

Yeah, Zeb expects there will be bruising.

He reaches around to firmly plant his hands on Alex's ass, which is still covered despite all his railing against wasting time fiddling with clothes, and – partly because he wants to and partly because Alex, for all his strength, can't do the same to him – lifts him up.

Alex reacts to losing contact with the ground by clinging close. His hands pull at fur that really doesn't need that, but all it takes is a pointed "Ow," for him to release.

"Well, what did you expect?" Alex asks, tone entirely without remorse even as his hands smooth over where he'd gripped. Then, with slightly more control of movement than Zeb would have expected given his position, Alex wraps his legs around Zeb's hips.

For all that their bodies aren't built to match, that's a perfect sensation. If he were fully unsheathed, he could probably orgasm from not much more than this.

It's the exact shape and length of the human's legs, the musculature and bend that provide the perfect pressure right where it's needed.

He takes a step. He can, and he can tell it would be amazing if he were fully unsheathed, but as he is now, with only part of his baculum out, the bounce of Alex's weight as he shifts hits exactly the wrong way.

"Are you about to drop me?" Alex's voice is slightly higher than a moment ago. He tightens his legs around Zeb, which makes him grunt and Alex clench even tighter in turn.

"No," he denies, and then, since that was more than a bit insulting after everything, "but I'm thinking about it now."

Alex unwraps his legs quickly. Thin, blunt-tipped human fingers press tightly on his arms. Zeb manages to lower Alex without any actual injury, though Alex's pride probably takes a hit when his foot lands on Zeb's and he has to jump to avoid tripping. Zeb doesn't laugh too much, just enough to earn a punch on the arm that's more of a gesture than an attack. There's enough force behind it that his stumble back is exaggerated rather than entirely feigned, but they both know how easily he could take much more and he's felt Alex give it. 

"What was that about?" Alex demands, properly crossing his arms this time.

"Ancient lasat ritual. You lift your partner and throw them down as hard as you can. Whether they land gracefully lets you judge-"

"You'd still be a terrible liar even if you could make it through a line without starting to laugh," Alex interrupts.

"I've got other skills." He realizes what he's left himself open to there, so he's quick to add, "The thing with your legs was good. The bit where you were pressing my baculum back in wasn't."

Alex squints at him for a moment before staring down at where nothing more than his tip has emerged. It's not an impressive sight like this, so he turns to lower himself into taking a seat on the bunk. 

It's not an ideal space – it's only meant to fit one in the first place and hardly suited to acrobatics – but it's better than they could have.

Alex pulls the last of his clothing down over his hips before letting it drop and stepping closer to settle in beside him. Zeb suspects he's only partially aroused; he'd rather keep watching for changes than ask. His testicles aren't so strange, but Alex’s penis can most simply be described as a bluntly round-tipped rod that, like the rest of the human body, doesn't appear particularly imposing. That's part of the attraction, or its own attraction, or whatever. He knows how deceiving that impression is when it comes to humans.

They couldn't be called clawed and their nails are barely a threat, but their fingers are fast and capable. They look like they should barely be able to jump, but their legs are deceptively strong. More often than not, their ears look vestigial, but Zeb knows all too well how effective they are at tracking an enemy by sound alone.

Before, when he'd known Alex only as Agent Kallus and semi-regularly fantasized about killing him, Kallus had beaten him to his knees. Alex is dangerous, a fierce warrior, though these days they know each other's moves and Zeb would say they're evenly matched.

It's thrilling to see what Alex's body can do, the strength it contains packed tight and released. Even now that they fight side by side, with that speed and strength and skill complementing his own, Zeb can't be complacent about keeping up with him. Alex's muscles aren't as large as those he's seen on some of the other humans, but they're clearly visible, unmissable, and formed to suit him. Alex looks capable of responding to a threat at a moment's notice even now, sitting beside him and likely as vulnerable as he can be. 

Touching is what this is about, so he turns fully to Alex and gives in to the urge to run his hand over smooth uncovered skin. The muscles on Alex's abdomen jump at his touch, but even more interesting is the length of his penis, which rises quickly, stiff and, to the touch of his hand, hard. It's filled to be larger than it had first appeared, but Zeb stands by his assessment. He also, even more now, stands by his desire to see what it can do.

He circles his hand over it, pulling down from tip to base before releasing and starting at the top again. He thinks it's going well, Alex's breaths are becoming faster and louder, but there's no other result until Alex reaches to curve a hand over his own and pull it upward as he reaches the base again. "Like this," he says, even as Zeb releases his grip and pulls his hand back. Alex takes hold of his own length and moves his hand both up and down along it. 

That makes sense, now that he sees it. Not something to try on a lasat, but another benefit of human smoothness.

"Huh," he says aloud, and takes a moment to watch, though Alex's technique seems to have no more success than his own did. He must know what he's doing though.

"Is that how you do it?" Alex asks, tone strained in an entirely new way. He mimics how Zeb had moved on him, tip to base then release.

"Do you wanna see?" He means to be teasing, though what he hears of his own voice doesn't show it.

"Yes," the answer comes quick and insistent. 

He's not about to become bashful, but he does hesitate for a moment before moving his hands. They're different enough – without some creativity, incompatible enough – that if Alex's not surprised by what he's about to see, he won't be shocked by anything Zeb can show him. It's not impossible that Alex already knows about this difference – he was on Lasan after all, he knows far more about lasat than most humans do – but with the way the Empire wages war, knowing your enemy isn't necessary for eradicating them. 

Alex's isn't intimidating, comparatively Zeb doesn't think it's vain to say that his is. Regardless, they've jumped into this. This is probably the best way to compare in any case; as far as his arousal is concerned, none of their differences pose an actual problem. If Alex's has the same effect – and he thinks it does – then any shock should be quickly overcome, hopefully with enthusiasm. 

He puts the right spread of pressure on his pelvis to relax his opening and reflexively push his penis into sight.

"That's not going inside me." Alex has stopped touching himself. Zeb can read human body language well enough to assume that his leaning forward is probably a good thing. More than anything else, he trusts that Alex isn't going to be put off by him. Surprised, yes, but he wouldn't be here if he weren't willing to try something different. 

"Yeah, I didn't expect it to."

Based on size alone, a body like Alex's could probably take him, though given the differences between Alex's blunted tip and his own tapered shape he's not sure how effective the stimulation would be.

It would be unwise to penetrate anyone based on size alone though. Surface durability and sensitivity are really important factors, essential ones, considering his array of spines.

The flesh surrounding the tip of his penis is smooth over his baculum, but the spines start circling his length about an inch down, beginning with small downward-pointing spiked ridges and increasing in length until the lowest-reaching needles are almost half an inch long themselves, falling not quite parallel to his shaft. They are exactly as sharp as they look.

"How do you keep those..." Alex pauses, searching a moment for the word, "sheathed? Without stabbing yourself?"

"They tuck away," that's essentially true, if very simplified, "and you can feel them more when you're," he finishes his statement with a descriptive gesture.

Alex grunts and reaches out to cup his hand over the tip of Zeb's penis. He rubs along, keeping his hand above the spines before glancing up at Zeb, probably reading his expression. He then proves that the day's surprises aren't over by leaning down and covering the tip with his mouth.

He was pretty sure that both of their species use their mouths for this – even if a lasat would use less lip and focus on more sensitive areas – but it's very good (very, very good) to have the confirmation that they do. It'll give them a lot to work with.

Even so, having Alex's mouth on him so suddenly pulls out a grunt of shock. The sensation is good; the feel, the depth and shape and movement of Alex's mouth specifically are particularly alien, despite how similar their species' mouths are. He won't orgasm from this, especially if Alex keeps his focus to the tip, which is the least sensitive part, but it feels good. It looks good.

His reaction is to the visible. Bent over like this, the muscles in Alex's back and shoulders are on display. Zeb takes the opportunity to reach out and touch him again, running his fingers over the smooth skin in any direction he wants.

But there's an invisible aspect too. Comparatively smooth as all humans are, he doesn't think the sight of any other's shoulders would be quite so pleasing. Zeb never would have expected to like Alex, not at all and certainly not like this, and absolutely not this much. He still sometimes questions his taste. But when he's not questioning his taste, he's really enjoying himself (and sometimes even when he is).

Alex spent his life immersed in the Empire. They have an even greater number of horrible philosophies than even Zeb had known about. Alex has a lot to unlearn, but that's exactly what he's doing. That's what he's proving is possible. Change, recovery, rebuilding what the Empire destroys, it all seems more possible now. And aside from the fact that Alex has done enough to help them since he turned that Zeb might not be living if he hadn't, having Alex become a part of his life has been good for him.

He's not going to waste the present by fantasizing too far into an unreliable future, but he wants Alex to stick around.

In any case, Alex is here with him now, and ISB agent Kallus would be appalled. 

Alex lifts a hand and circles it around Zeb again, just under his own mouth, before drawing down and releasing the way Zeb had done to him. It's almost enough to make him come, and the noise he makes warns as much.

Alex pulls his mouth away to look up at him, then stares at his face as he moves his hand again. Zeb doesn't care what he sees there as long as it doesn't make Alex stop.

Alex does it again, moving more slowly over Zeb's spines and pressing harder. 

Zeb thrusts up as he comes, unthinkingly, and hears Alex hiss as his hips drop back.

He doesn't need to look down to know what happened; he'd felt it. His movement against Alex's hand had shifted his grip, pricking him with the tips of his spines.

Alex pulls his hand away to examine it. Zeb can see drops of red welling up between his thumb and finger. They're small, but it's his fault they're there.

"How deep did they get?" From what he'd felt, they'd barely broken skin, but that doesn't mean Alex felt it the same.

"It's nothing." Alex brings his hand to his mouth to suck at the wounds.

Zeb starts to apologize – it's a rare situation that so easily earns one – but Alex cuts him off.

"You've done worse." Alex reaches out again to run the same hand over his spines, smoothing them the right way. Zeb barely contains the sound he wants to make at that.

"They're not poisonous?" Alex asks, as though Zeb wouldn't have thought to tell him if they were.

"Dunno, but they're not venomous." 

The look Alex gives him for emphasizing that last word almost is, but Zeb can't feel remorse for it; he'd only done it because knows full well that Alex would have done the same if given the chance.

He's not going to ask if Alex is alright again and risk that he'll take it as condescension.

The first ejaculation is always the largest. Now that Alex has felt what his spines can do, he seems even less cautious than he was before. He runs his fingers over them, almost too gently, before catching a single long spine between two fingers and pulling it away. He doesn't pull it back far enough to hurt, just as far as it will easily go while Zeb is still aroused. It's an interesting feeling, but not particularly pleasant. When they're done he'll be able to pull it up fully, but by then his sensitivity won't be anywhere near as intense.

Alex carefully runs his fingers to the root of the spine and then, even more carefully, slips them underneath to press in between the undersides of his spines and his shaft.

That's more interesting, and because it's always easier after the first, he orgasms again.

He's careful not to move this time, but his groan is loud enough for Alex to look up again and snatch his hand back.

"What was that?"

A huff of laughter escapes before he can consider the question. He's pretty sure it's pretty obvious what just happened; Alex's hand is wet with it.

"I'm not sure where to start if you need that talk." Alex clearly didn't miss what happened with the first, so whatever this is about isn't him not knowing what a lasat's orgasm looks like. If he's going to leave himself open to it, he deserves the teasing.

Alex pulls back. "You came again," he says it like an accusation. 

"Yeah." In case it was an accusation he adds, "You were responsible for that."

"How many times can you do that?"

That makes him reconsider. "Uh," he hesitates, before determining that Alex is looking for a baseline rather than a lifetime maximum, "three to five times in a row, usually. Then you need a break. You?"

"We get one."

"Huh." That makes a sort of sense. It makes some jokes he's heard and only bothered to pay partial attention to make more sense too. 

"Huh," he says again. "So what did you think you were doing just then if I was already finished?"

Alex outright scoffs. "I might as well familiarize myself with it now."

"Oh," Zeb doesn't try to hide his amusement now, "don't let me put you off."

Alex doesn't tend to blush like most other humans do, but his facial expressions are often just as revealing. "You didn't seem to mind," he adds, almost sullen, then switches gears as another thought seems to occur to him.

"Am I- Does it cut them short when I pull back?"

Zeb gives as much of a shrug as he can be bothered with. "It's better if you keep touching me, but not by much. Neither of us are going to enjoy it if I get caught on you."

Alex twists his face and stares at his hand. "If I wrap something around it-" He stops, clambers past Zeb, then grabs at a corner of a stowed and folded blanket and pulls it out.

He looks so accomplished at having folded a blanket over his hand that Zeb has to laugh, just a little. It's not much protection – and it looks ridiculous – but when Alex lowers his hand to Zeb's shaft again, the last thought on his mind is protest.

"You can wear a glove next time," he offers, after Alex has run his hand down along his spines and the next wave of pleasure has started to build again. That should work.

Alex has a lot of laughs, most of which are on a scale from simply unpleasant to outright belittling, but this is one of the other ones, open and genuine, that he's only recently started to hear. He's not sure how the glove proposal prompted it, but he'll take it and the way it shifts Alex's body – closer now after the blanket retrieval mission – against his own.

"Yes. Good idea. We'll remember that next time."

Now that Alex's hand is covered, he seems more interested in looking at the rest of Zeb. He shifts his body even closer, moving his free hand to run along Zeb's upper arm and over his chest. 

He ejaculates again, and this time rather than removing his hand Alex squeezes it tighter. It is more intense, but a lot of that is because it's the third; by the fourth he'll probably be done.

With this one he leans hard into Alex, who picks up his movement on Zeb's shaft again without interruption. 

He runs his own hand up Alex's back, pulling him closer. He rubs against him, though the instinct to press his face against Alex's body is almost vestigial – to activate scenting glands that don't work well enough to notice.

Alex's arm between them pushes around to wrap around his back, then his hand moves up to the back of Zeb's neck while his other presses spines close to shaft.

The fourth is definitely the last he can take. He swears into Alex's skin with the release. Taking only a moment to breathe before pulling away, he brings his hands down to the mess they've made of the blanket. This time, thanks to positioning, some of his spines are stuck in it, but it's easy enough to pull it down and off as they start to numb.

Alex's hand hasn't moved from his neck, even though he's pulled the rest of his body back.

"That's the last I can take," Zeb confirms, even though Alex has surely worked that out on his own.

The human leans forward again, gently, to whisper low at his ear, "You finished first. That means I have superior stamina."

He's close enough that Zeb can feel his grin.

Zeb doesn't think _I've barely touched you_ would be the response of a considerate partner.

Since verbal reply is lacking, he moves for what is, in any case, a better method of response: action.

With a growl and a snarl he grabs at Alex and pushes him back against the bunk. Alex grins up at him as Zeb holds him down, looking as though this is exactly what he'd been hoping for. It gives Zeb more than a little encouragement. 

Alex's erection is as apparent as ever, but Zeb doesn't want to start there. He moves a hand over Alex's chest, stopping to tap a nail against a nipple. Alex lets out a breath.

He tries it again. Alex tenses under him before relaxing, but it doesn't seem to be a bad response. He lays a palm flat against Alex's chest. He can feel Alex's breath and heartbeat, and the slight shift of his body in anticipation. 

Lightly, careful not to draw blood, he runs his nails across Alex's chest. There they are, thin, pinked lines left as he passes over skin. He couldn't explain the appeal, but the sight makes his breath catch. He can hear Alex's breath shake; when he looks up he sees nothing but desire.

He passes his nails over skin again, leaving marks he knows will fade soon, before lowering his head to give the marked skin a quick lick. It doesn't taste or feel any different from what surrounds it, but Alex's quick yelp captures his attention before he has time to consider it.

He looks up at Alex's face. He hadn't made a sound like that even when Zeb's spines had pricked him.

"No, you can do that again," Alex says, breathing even quicker than before. So Zeb lowers his mouth to skin again.

The sounds Alex makes as Zeb moves down his body are more breath than voice. He's so focused on listening to them that he jumps at the unexpected feeling of a finger tracing the tip of his left ear. He looks up again as Alex pulls his hand away. Alex's face is tensed as if he's been caught out at something, as though Zeb hasn't just been tracing the muscles of his abdomen with his tongue and his touch was somehow inappropriate. 

Whatever that's about can wait. Zeb was almost there anyway, so he pulls back just enough and grabs at Alex's erection, moving his hand as Alex had demonstrated. 

Alex had said, when seeing Zeb's, that it wasn't going inside him. He thinks he has a good idea of what that meant, and wonders whether that means there's a chance of this going inside him. Not right now, he's sure of that, but it's an idea he could see himself warming to. Alex's shape gives rise to a number of possibilities he hadn't considered before. He wouldn't say he's jealous, but there's a convenience to it.

"How do you feel," he asks, because what Alex had done to him had lacked that kind of stimulation and that strikes him as important, "about teeth?" He makes his question clear by licking near the top of Alex's shaft.

Alex chokes. He says something, but Zeb has no hope of making out what it is. He can feel some response though, a jumping of the shaft in his hand. Then Alex stills, inhales, and says, "I don't know. Be careful. Don't make me bleed." The last point of the warning comes more sharply than the rest. He hadn't seemed to mind bleeding so much earlier, but it's not difficult to see why this is different.

_I don't know_ is an interesting response; he supposes it is something humans avoid. He can be careful. He hadn't been planning to bite anyway.

He mimics how Alex had moved on him; it seems like the best tactic.

He lowers his mouth over the blunt, rounded tip of Alex's penis, then down further. He lets his teeth touch skin as he moves; Alex isn't wide enough to have any risk of meeting the tip of a fang, but there's no harm in letting him brush the side of one. 

He can't reach down to the base, but without spines he can move back up. He moves off to lick freely at it when he reaches the top again. He hadn't considered the difficulty of combining the use of his tongue with such careful use of his teeth; not pushing Alex against them is more difficult than he'd thought it would be.

Instead of covering it from the top, he tries coming at it from the sides. The licking, at least, seems to work well like that.

The thickest patch of hair lies at the base of Alex's penis. Zeb would describe it as thin, regardless of what human standards might consider it, but it captures the scent of Alex's arousal beautifully. 

He licks from there up Alex's shaft, a strange but intuitive movement. Alex's hips move to chase his mouth, which is how Alex ends up shifting enough to almost roll off the bunk.

Without thinking, Zeb reaches out with a foot to grab Alex's leg and hold him steady. He has appreciated the muscles of Alex's thighs before, but straining in his grip like this, exactly like this, with Alex strong and open and needing below him, gives a more direct jolt of appreciation than he usually feels.

Apparently it does something similar for Alex, because he ejaculates with a grunt.

Zeb catches only a hint of the spurt of fluid, but he can feel it happen as the shaft pulses under his tongue.

Alex's whole body goes lax in the moments afterward. His hips settle and his breathing deepens. Zeb can feel the tension flow out of the muscles he holds.

"Oh," Alex says after a moment, as Zeb pulls his leg into a better position and lets go. "Huh."

"Huh," Zeb returns, more out of camaraderie than it being a particularly insightful thing to say.

He's almost entirely retracted by now himself, and takes the opportunity to watch as Alex's shaft goes limp, shrinking without fully retracting. 

"That was," Alex starts, then twists his head to look at Zeb, "good. Gloves, next time."

"Yeah, if you want. _I_ ," he stresses the pronoun, "care what you want."

"Not enough to never reference that again."

"No, not that much."

Zeb makes the decision to move up the bunk himself. He's pretty sure Alex is going to say something about getting cleaned up soon, but he wants a moment to lie lax himself before then.

So he climbs up until he's half on top of Alex. It's too tight a fit to lie side by side, but it's his bunk, so if Alex has a problem with it he can be the one to move.

Alex doesn't say anything as Zeb settles into place, but his soft grunt when Zeb throws an arm around him and subtly nudges his face against skin sounds pleased. He brings his own hand up to place it on Zeb's arm and leaves it there, tickling slightly as he moves his fingers back and forth through fur.

They don't get to lie there long. There's still too much to do, always, to take long. But they do take the moment. It's a good moment.

And it is, as it ends up turning out, only the first of many.


End file.
